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Published fl' ^" , % 'fec3 

EVANS Si KELLY. ft*19Ro$eSt. 



Price— 10 Cents. 



"TOO THIN;" 



—OR- 



KELETON SARA 



HER "REALISTIC" LIFE 

— AND — 

ADVENTURES IN AMERICA. 

BY 

ISAAC G. REED, Jr., 
itholr of " Ye Russian Ball," " The Prince's Visit," " Erring Yet Noble," etc. 



{RIGHTS OP DRAMATIZATION RESERVED,) 



HEW YORK : 

EVANS & KELLY, Publishers, 17 and 19 Rose Street. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year »88o, by 

EVANS, KELLY &. REED, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. Q 

Rights of Dramatization Reserved. 



a3 



Preface. 



ROOM— 329— HOTEL de SMITH 6* McNEILL, 
(European Plan), Opposite Washington Market, 

New York, October, 1880. 

Official-extra — "extra dry." 

TO THE AUTHOR AND PUBLISHERS OF * TOO 
THIN; or SKELETON SARA :" 

Messieurs : 

By ze aid of Webster f s Unabridged I have read ze proof-sheets 
of votre book. It is ze only life of me which, to use ze words of my 
loving friend, ze great Henry Ward Tilton, or Theodore Beecher, 
of ze Brooklyn Bridge, or ze Plymouth Rock (I am getting a " leetle 
mixed'* — not in my drinks, but in my dialect — but you comprenez 
what I mean,) shows ze " true inwardness " of my life, and does 
justice to ze great motif of my career — ze spilling of as much print- 
ers ink as possible over myself — I think " Too Thin" perfectly char- 
want, and I would like to (viskey) punch its author's head. Ze 
Melican man very funny. Please do not forget to send me one 
ropy of ze very first edition. I will send you ze ten cents as soon as 
T make another, what you call, "raid" on my New York manager* 
4t ze present, what with my dear leetle poodles, my lazy maids, my 
c atherless children* and my good for nothing agents, I am as you 
vould say, " dead-broke." But I kiss votre hands — or will kiss zem 
vhen I see you — and will remain, yours truly, as long as there is 
kin on the bones of 

SARA. 



"TOO THIN," 

OR 

SKELETON SARA. 



SARA. AS A CHILD. 



Sara was born— and born in the usual way. These two 
st plebian facts have never been denied, we believe, up to 
;e, even by Sara herself. True, a story has been started that, 
i Topsy, she " had never been born, but growed" — that her 
ther had been an electric light and her father the tail of a 
let. But this canard, proving like herself, "too thin," it was 
pr dently withdrawn from circulation and vehemently denied 
most of all by Sara, who merely hinted that some disguised mys- 
terious Due or Marquis was " the author of her being." Whereas 
n reality her father and her mother belonged to what she would 
herself designate as the " canaille" or common people. 
But though ordinary in her birth and parentage she was 
eer" in every other particular. She was an " odd" baby, 
er did what was done by other babies. Never kicked, 
rmed, squalled, or sucked her fingers — not from any desire 
to be better or more obliging than other babies, but simply from 
an innate desire and determination to be different. As a little 
rl she did just the opposite of other little girls — wore her cheap- 
iirtiest dresses on a Sunday or fete day, her very best frock 
in the very worst weather, and never said her prayers at all. As 
for her dolls, she made herself the talk of all the children in the 
neighborhood by breaking their heads and limbs, and as a prize 
H giit er would say, "knockhV the stufrin' out of 'em," not from 
11-will toward the dolls, but simply and solely because she 
hat all *' the common children" loved their dolls and petted 



" TOO THIN j" or SKELETON SARA. 

For the same reason, too, as all other children liked molasses 
syrups she pretended to dislike them, and took a violent fancy to 
swallowing vinegar — a whim which she indulged to such an ex- 
tent as to lay the foundation of what is to-day one of her strong- 
est, thickest points, viz., her "thinness." 

When thirteen years old she " ran away " from her parents, in 
company with another girl. Her companion " ran away " in 
earnest, but Sara only " made believe," left word behind her as 
to her whereabouts, was caught, brought back, and was more 
talked about than ever. Her folks then sent her to a House of 
Refuge, where she received the rudiments of a thoroughly "prac- 
tical education. 

SARA AS A DRESSMAKER. 

Reaching maturity Sara tried her hand at dressmaking ; but 
to tell the truth she was a very poor modiste, and for a while she , 
had nobody to try her dresses on but herself, and the result was 
not encouraging. But one day she commenced to advertise — 
and from that time, although her dresses were no better, her cus- 
tomers were. This gave her her first " point" or " kink" on 
advertising. 

Then she began to feel that she would prefer being a dress- 
maker's model or puppet — on the stage — to being a mere dress- 
maker off of it ; that she would rather be an actress than a 
modiste ; and naturally enough the idea suggested itself that 
printer's ink might avail her even more on the stage than in the 
store. 

SARA AS AN ACTRESS. 

" I think I am talented," reasoned Sara, " I know I am odd ; 
my oddities- are of no earthly use to me as a dressmaker, but I 
I can make them invaluable to me as an actress. I am a woman, 
too ; not much of a one, it is true, merely the skin and bones of 
one, but still, not a man. I can turn my oddities and my sex into 
advertisements and newspaper paragraphs. These are certainties 
and I can take my chances on my talents ; I shall carry adver- 
tising to its highest or lowest point ; I shall make an advertising 



" TOO THIN T or SKELETON SARA. 

dodge of myself— an incarnate advertisement — or a skeleton of 
one" — and she kept her word. 

She became an actress — and her whole stage drilling lay in 
being talked about. She gave one day to Art and the rest of the 
week to Advertisement. 

SARA IN HER STUDIO. 

She hired a studio and announced that she was a sculptor. 
This gave her a double claim upon the notice of the press. Her 
notoriety as an actress would lead the public to see her in the 
studio — her notoriety as a sculptor would send the public to see 
her on the stage. It was a double-barreled advertisement. 

She bought for a mere song a few old works of art that had 
been lying around the junk shops of Paris ; then she hired a Bo- 
hemian artist, for a limited salary and unlimited beer to re-touch 
these works, and also engaged him to model a few casts himself. 
This arrangement worked admirably, and gave her no end of gush 
and notoriety, till one day Sara, who had a temper of her own, 
became enraged at the poor devil of an artist because he had par- 
taken of more beer than usual, and terminated an interview with 
him by throwing one of her (his) or his (her) choicest works of 
art at his head, and then trying to brain the poor Bohemian with 
his own mallet. 

SARA IN HER PAINT SHOP. 

Having thus abandoned sculpture, or rather her sculptor 
laving thus abandoned her, Sarah cultivated the kindred art of 
)ainting. She did not hire an artist, however — she really be- 
came a colorist herself. With time and care she might have pro- 
gressed so far as to earn days wages as a "house or sign painter," 
>ut considered in a critical light she was not a success. Her 
>icture of a horse drinking at a stream possessed the merit of a 
aysterious and "suggestive" obscurity; the horse might have 
»een an elephant or a lion, and the water might have been dry 
and — but regarded as a work of art it was more, much more, 
work" than "art," and Sara wisely determined to abandon 
tainting — save in one line — self-decoration. " At least I can 



" TOO THIN " or ^j^jL^^jL^^y SAjLz. 

paint myself," she said — and she has kept on painting herself till 
this day. 

SARA IN HER COFFIN. 

Finding in the course of time that clay and canvas were losing 
their hold upon the public, Sara prudently resolved to attempt 
something new and startling. Passing an undertakers' shop one 
afternoon the bold and original idea occurred to her that a coffin 
might be utilized as an advertisement. She forthwith stepped 
into the shop and bought a coffin. 

Then, by an arrangement with the undertaker, she was wrap- 
ped in her shroud (what there was of her to wrap), candles and 
lights were disposed around the casket, and "her friends and re- 
latives were respectfully invited to attend the funeral" — or at 
least to view Sara in her shroud — more shroud than Sara. 

This coffin advertisement proved, as it deserved to be, a 
" dead" failure. Sara had never been lovely as a creature — as a 
corpse she was hideous. The sight of her gave a leading jour- 
nalist a fit of dyspepsia, for which he never forgave her. In fact, the 
dead Sara was so horrible that her visitors rushed pell--mell from 
her — and the living Sara was obliged finally to get out of her 
casket by herself and carry away her own coffin. 

SARA AND THE CRITIC. 

These repeated rebuffs in her pursuit of notoriety " soured " 
Sara, and she looked around her for a victim on whom to vent 
her wrath. At last she found one. 

There was a little critic who attacked Sara in the journal to 
which he was attached. Among other things he said that "her hair 
and teeth were false. " One day the little critic was seated in his 
sanctum, with his "copy " and his " absinthe," when in rushed 
Sara. Without a word, but with a scowl containing the concen- 
trated malice of ten thousand old maids, she commenced to ob- 
scure his vision by throwing at him, one after another, a choice 
assortment of blonde wigs with real human hair, crying out, as 
each wig hit him in the eye, "Do you call that false?" Then 
when she had nearty blinded him, she relieved the monotony by 



ELETON SARA. 

hurling at him with all her might (and Sara, though not muscular, 
is bony, and bones are vigorous) one after another, sets of teeth 
of genuine ivory and celluloid, shouting, as each set hit him in 
the jaw, or elsewhere, " Do you call that false ?" 

The little critic was vanquished and " threw up the sponge." 
Glad to escape more serious consequences he " took it all back " 
in his next article on Sara, and now whenever he shows the 
slightest inclination to criticise her " on her merits" (a species 
of criticism which Sara most cordially detests) she simply sends 
him, per special messenger, a package containing a wig and a set 
of teeth as a warning, and the little critic sees, shudders, and 
subsides. 

SARA AND THE PRINCE. 

" Sara's most ingenions advertisement was her last. It was 
really clever — being thoroughly womanly. 

A Prince — not, it is true, of the blood royal, only a German 
Prince of the sixteenth degree— fell in love with Sara — that is to 
say, not with her (that was impossible) but with her notoriety^ 
which was very natural. 

Sara accepted his advances, and made an appointment to 
meet him in a secluded portion of a public garden. Then she 
sent a mysterious note, without a signature, notifying Madame la 
Princesse, the Prince's wife, that her husband had arranged a 
rendezvous with the notorious Sara, stating time and place. 

Of course the Prince was punctual to the appointment. So 
was Sara — and so was Madame la Princesse. At the proper mo- 
ment, just as the Prince became tender, the Princesse became 
furious, and rushing upon the scene from behind the tree where 
she had been hiding, attacked her faithless spouse in a fit of 
jealous agony, with her parachute, while Sara rushed through the 
crowd which had gathered around this highly edifying and re- 
freshing spectacle, muttering delightedly. " She has broken her 
heart — and her parasol — but / am advertised. 

SARA AND THE MANAGERS. 

She was indeed, quite as well advertised as Lea & Perrin's 



• 4 TOO THINf 

Worcestershire Sauce, Warr 

or Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup. And to increase her e< 
she now commenced to make herself intensely disagreeable to 
other actresses and actors, and to quarrel with her manag 
This brought her into additional notoriety— and law suits. 1 
law suits were telegraphed across the Atlantic, and of course :h< 
American managers became wildly anxious to engage a won 
who could afford to advertise herself by defying her manag 
Theatrical managers, like certain fish, thrive best in hot weat 
— and the metaphorical waters around Skeleton Sara were alw; 
scalding hot. 

Finally, after months of negotiation, having changed her mi 
say some three hundred times — and raised her price say soi 
three hundred and fifty — having kept eight lawyers and eighte 
agents constantly busy — having whitened the hairs and con 
pletely shattered the nervous systems of all parties concerned 
the transaction — she signed a contract with a New York man 
ger, who from that moment was regarded by his fellow manage 
with equal envy and pity — envy at his efiances of success, ai 
pity for his certainties of trouble. 

And at last, having been " interviewed" with and " corre 
ponded about, having been cartooned and cabled, having be< v L 
published and photographed, having been " done up" in poer ; 
and paragraphs, having made any number of demands for ad 
vances and additional salary, she left Europe, attended by a sui ■ 
of poodle dogs and reporters — several children, who, although 
they were not yet wise enough to know their own father, at lea ? 
were aware that Sara was their mother — one thousand dresses, an; 
one skeleton (besides herself.) 

SARA " HALF SEAS OVER." 

During the voyage across the Atlantic Sara devoted herseH 
in about equal proportions to deep thought — in which respec 
she differed from the majority of her fellow prssengers) and 
deep basin (in which respect she exactly resembled her fello*> 
passengers — all of whom were compelled to have a basin, mor< 
or less deep, beside them constantly. Sara's basin was just • 
little deeper than the rest— just as her thoughts were. 



" TOO THIN /' or SKELETON SARA. 

The subject of her reflections during her trip were naturally 
mough on America, and how she could best advertise herself in 
that great country. 

The result of her reflections was about as follows : 

" As America is the youngest of the nations, of course, like 
ill youngsters it likes noise. Well, then, noise it shall have — blare 
md brag and bray — I will give it no peace, day or night, but 
mail blow my horn, or have it blown, as long as there is brass 
jr wind remaining. And as all youngsters are passionately 
fond of anything " out of the way,' uncommon, I will be un- 
;ommon" from the start — as " out of the way" as I possibly can 
:>e without being " out of my head " altogether. To make them 
;hink me divine I shall pretend to be crazy — I shall advertise 
nyself as a genius by behaving like a lunatie. " Nuff Ced." 

And she returned to her basin. 

sara's first impressions" in America. 

As the steamer came nearer and nearer the dock it was 
loticed that Sara became more and more thoughtful — she was 
evidently resolving upon some grand coup (C theatre — some sen- 
;ational style of entering America. She was a believer in 
'first impressions," and was making up her mind to produce 
m impression of the most decided character from the very 
>eginning. For a while she paced the deck to and fro (with- 
>ut the basin) and scratched her head, or wig, in dire per- 
)lexity. At last she smiled a smile of triumph. She had 
olved the problem. She had hit upon the very thing she 
panted — a style of entering the great Republic which would 
onvulse it to its centre — a style of entering the great Republie 
fhich assuredly no woman had ever as much as dreamed 
bout before." All r-ight," said Sara. It was about all the Eng. 
ish, or American, she knew. 

The steamer " slowed up" majestically to the dock. Here 
.ara's American manager had arranged that a claque of about 
me hundred " artists," supers and 'longshoremen were standing 
all ready to applaud her wildly as she first put foot on Ame- 
rica. But alas, the claque were not afforded an opportunity to 



" TOO THIN;" or SKELETON SARA. 

get their " fine work" in— for Sara never put foot on America at 
all. 

No, she had thought out a trick worth a hundred of that. 
Uttering an exclamation — in French, English, or native Dutch — 
waving her bony arms, like umbrella handles, wildly above her, 
she gave a leap from the steamers' side, and fell as she in- 
tended, on her head. Up went her skirts, round went her legs, 
the women cried " shame," though there was nothing to be 
ashamed of— the men looked, but saw nothing — (or Sara's 
ankles — the same thing). The claque stood stupified, not know- 
ing exactly what was expected of them under the circumstances, 
while two small boys rushed across the street, one of them yell* 
ing "perlice !" and the other bawling out " fire !" 

And this was Skeleton Sara's " first appearance in America." 

SARA MEETS HER AMERICAN MANAGER. 

Having created the sensation she desired, on her head, she 
resumed the normal position of woman by standing on her feet 
and looking around her. She saw a crowd of astonished women, 
amused men, and grinning boys. She also saw her American 
manager, gazing at her in wonder mingled with awe, as if 
she were a two-tailed baboon, or a three-headed giraffe. 
At his side stood a lady, leaning on his arm, and staring at 
Sara with all her eyes. Not heeding the lady, Sara (determined 
to pursue her plan of doing everything differently from other 
people) instead of extending her hand to her manager and grasp- 
ing kis outstretched palm, as is the usual style of salutation, 
rushed to him and kissed him, if not lovingly at least loudly, on 
each cheek, terminating her welcome by encircling him with her 
arms, that is, enveloping him within the circumference of a cer- 
tain number of flesh-covered bones. The manager, not being 
prepared for this sensational greeting, submitted in silence, but 
the lady accompanying hmi was neither submissive nor silent — 
being his wife. 

Violently separating Sara's umbrella-handles from the mana- 
ger's neck, the lady drew the gentleman away, saying to Sara, as 
she did so : 



" TOO THIN ;" or SKELETON SARA. 

" That man, that gentleman, is my spouse — my husband, 
madam. Do you understand, madam — my husband. We have 
such things as husbands in this country." 

A piece of information especially designed for Sara's benefit. 

The crowd, expecting to witness a " scene," between the two 
women, and delighting to behold it, pressed around closely. But 
the manager, succeeded in pacifying the pair, and outward har- 
mony at least was restored. 

Sara was escorted to her carriage, the bright Broadway was 
reached, and Skeleton Sara was fairly in New York at last. 



WHAT SARA HAD FORGOTTEN. 

As the carriage passed the New York Hotel a characteristic 
incident occurred. Sara's pet maid, who carried her pet poodle, 
suddenly clasped her hands and exclaimed, " Mon Dieu ! Madam 
has forgotten something !" Sara was startled, looked round her, 
shook her head, and said simply " Non," her maid was mistaken. 
But the maid persisted she was not mistaken. Madame had for- 
gotten something. " Ma foi, what can it be zat I have forgotten," 
said Sara to her maid. I have all my dresses, have I not ?" 

" Oui, madame," answered the maid. 

"And all my dogs ?" 

"Oui, madame." 

" And all my reporters ?" 

" Oui, madame." 

" Then what on earth can I have forgotten ?" asked Sara in 
bewilderment. ) 

"Ah, madame's head is so full of ze great things," said the 
maid, "zat she cannot remember ze trifles." Ah, madame has 
forgotten her four little children." 

"Ah, true, true!" said Sara, recovering her equanamity, "I 
thought I had forgotten something of importance, which I could 
not replace. Oui, oui, I have forgotten my little darlings ; but 
they are safe on board the steamer somewhere ; we need not turn 
back for them now ; I will send for them by express when I have 
reached my hotel, ze very first thing." 

• 



" TOO THIN;" or SKELETON SARA. 

THE FIRST THING SARA DID. 

But she did not send for her darlings, as she promised, as 
as she arrived ; on the contrary, she never so much as thoug 
them again till after dinner. Her first thought was " grub,' 
first movement was in the direction of the dining room. 1 
" thin" people always eat in inverse ratio to their thinness 
most attenuated having the most appetite — and thus it was 
Sara. 

But aware that her first bill of fare in this free country w 
be reported by telegraph from Maine to California — ha 
already caught a glimpse of several seedy-looking arrivals < 
note-books, whom her instinct told her were reporters, prep; 
to watch and record her every mouthful, she ordered not onl] 
extensive, but an eccentric menu, requiring the combined ta 
and digestions of a jackass and an anaconda. 

Having finished her repast, and completely cleared the ta 
leaving the reporters to discuss where on earth the good thi 
had all gone to, as they evidently hadn't gone to skin and be 
as Sara was as like a " skeleton " as ever, and the illustri s 
stranger retired to her suite of rooms (we beg pardon, ap; 
ments) which had been " engaged " for her — (we again beg p 
don, we mean " specially appropriated for her use.") 

SARA AT HER HOTEL. 

Sara's arrival caused a great commotion. The hotel v 
thronged with men, women and children, anxious to catch i 
glimpse of the great genius, or as one of the Irish porters calk I 
her, "the crazy actress." But their curiosity was not gratifie 
Sara was too smart and too stingy to exhibit herself for nothir :. 
She was not that kind of a hairpin. She kept herself exclusr : 
and remained in her rooms, which were made as dark as possil . 
during the day, and as brilliantly-lighted as possible during t 
night, simply to reverse the usual arrangement. The chambe 
maids and bell-boys were driven to distraction, so that bj 
venting their complaints in the halls they might in their humt^- 
way help still further to advertise Sara. 

She employed ,one person exclusively to translate for h 



" TOO THIN;" or SKELETON SARA. 

into French every word that was published about in the New- 
York papers, and she employed another poor devil to write 
articles and paragraphs about her for the New York papers — 
and this pair of unfortunates were worked like galley slaves, 
eighteen hours out of the twenty-four, till they gladly committed 
suicide together. She gave strict orders to admit into her 
presence at once every man who might be connected with a 
newspaper. She was interviewed by reporters in bed, or while 
dressing or undressing. She insulted a whole room full of dis- 
tinguished visitors, and dismissed them pell-mell in order to en- 
tertain one of the "greasiest" dramatic critics, whom she "oiled" 
before leaving. She entertained Bohemians long after midnight — 
in brief, to use a most expressive colloqum, " She made Rome 
howl," and her hotel-keeper wish that he or she had never been 
born. 



SARA AND HER SKELETON. 

One night, passing through the corridor and seeing a bright 
light peering through crevices of the apartment — 329 — occupied 
by the eccentric artiste, a chambermaid stopped at the door, and 
peeped in through the keyhole. She gazed a moment and then 
rushed wildly through the corridor, calling with the full strength 
of her vigorous lungs — " Murder !" — " Police !" — " Murder " — 
"Police !" Alarmed by such fearful sounds at midnight, the 
guests of the hotel stood in their night-robes at their respective 
doors, demanding alike protection and explanation. But the 
chambermaid rushed on, shouting louder than ever, " Murder !" 
Police !" A woman has murdered a man in her room, and is 
playing with his bones !" a statement well calculated to chill the 
blood of the boldest. 

An investigation ensued, and it was ascertained that, as was 
her wont, that Sara had been rehearsing " Frou-Frou" with her 
pet skeleton — the skeleton of a man who had killed himself for 
love, which ghastly relic of mortality Sara has been for years in 
the habit of carrying with her everywhere — and rehearsing with 
it in the solitude. 



• TOO THIN;" or SKELETON SARA. 

SARA AT REHEARSAL. 

Meanwhile rehearsals were held daily at the Theatre — rehear- 
sals which, as one of the stage-hands phrased it, were " both in- 
fernal and eternal." Sara was always late at rehearsal, and 
always cross— finding fault incessantly with others, but never 
permitting the slightest fault to be found with herself ; captious, 
too, a new whim every minute, and a new man or woman re- 
quired to wait on every whim. 

Her manager passed his whole day at the theatre, and was to 
be found in one of two states — either a state of wild exultation, 
when his star happened for five minutes to attend to her legiti- 
mate business on the stage ; or a state of utter exhaustion when 
his star, for five hours on a stretch, would with her freaks and 
temper, render the stage a pandemonium. 

Sara quarrelled with everybody, and everybody submitted to 
be snubbed by her — all but one stage carpenter, a burly fellow, 
who told Sara one morning to go to — a place even warmer than 
she was then making the stage. Sara had a wholesome respect 
for stage carpenters ever after. 

As for Sara's American agent, that most unhappy being never 
knew what it was to sit down ; life was to him one leap, to breathe 
was to fly. His whole existence was passed rushing from theatre 
to hotel, from hotel to theatre ; and his legs and coat tails were 
always parallel with the sidewalk. 

SARA AND HER LEADING MEN. 

At each rehearsal there was to be seen two " leading men," 
one ready to take the other's place at a moment's notice, if the 
first chanced to displease the whimsical Sara, or if she chanced 
to kill him, by inducing a fit of apoplexy or heart disease, from 
strain or worry. 

Each leading man was appropriately dressed in funereal 
black, and wore crape around his hat, being in mourning alike 
for himself and for the other leading men, who had all brought 
their coffins with them " direct from Paris. " 

Before going on the stage, at each rehearsal, each " leading 
man, bade a touching, tender, and eternal farewell to all the rest, 



" TOO THIN T or SKELETON SARA. 

partook of a double dose of absinthe, and then strode onward to 
Skeleton Sara, and to torment. 

A few hours generally finished him — and the rehearsal to- 
gether. But if not; if he was finished first then his "double'* 
was in readiness for the sacrifice. 



SARA WANTS HER TALMADGE. 

One morning at rehearsal the American manager was sent for 
in great haste. Sara had conceived a new idea, and rehearsal 
was suspended till she had communicated it. 

" Ah, monsieur le manager," cried Sara, " I want you to send 
for me to ze city near here — ze city zey call Brookline or Brook- 
lyn — ze city zey have been building a bridge, to for ze last hun- 
dred years." 

" Yes, that is Brooklyn," said the American manager (sotto 
voce.) 

" I want you to send for me to ze Brooklyn," continued Sara, 
" and to get for me a man zey make a great fuss about over zare, 
a man by ze name, I tink, of Talmadge." 

" Talmadge !" echoed the American manager, thinking his 
ears must have deceived him, " Surely you cannot mean the Rev. 
Dr. Talmage?" 

" Oui, oui!" replied Sara, emphatically. " Zat is ze man — 
ze Reverend Doctaire Talmage — I want him brought over here 
at once ; I want to rehearse with him ; I want to have him to in- 
spire me at rehearsals — to put new life into me — comprenez vous, 
monsieur ?" '* No, I do not comprehend," said the utterly be- 
wildered manager ; " why, the man is a minister." 

" Oh, yes," said Sara, " I know he is what zey call a clergy- 
<nmn— more's ze pity, monsieur — he would make, mon dieu, he 
vould make such a most capital clown. I want him brought 
iere to zis very place, before my very eyes, to wriggle his legs 
tnd arms about, just as he does in ze Brooklyn Tabernacle every 
Sunday. He will amuse me — he will put new vigor into me — he 
vill inspire me to make one as big fool of myself as he does ; and 
lien I will take ze New York by storm, just as he does ze 
3rooklyn." 



•' TOO THIN;" or SKELETON SARA. 

It cost the American manager two hours and three quarters 
by the watch to talk Sara out of the notion of her Talmadge — 
and, when he was through, perspiration poured from his every 
pore. 

HOW SARA WAS " WORKED UP " IN NEW YORK. 

Meanwhile the management had been straining every point 
and spending every dollar, to keep Sara thoroughly before the 
public, through the press and printers ink. Sara's genius as an ac- 
tress was eloquently commented upon by writers who had never 
seen her act at all. Her eccentricities were paraded and ex- 
aggerated, by penny-a-liners, who failed to see the spirit, the 
motif, that pervaded them. Sara was advertised, bill-posted, 
gutter-sniped, three-sheet-streamered, hand-billed, circulared, 
photographed, done in oil, crayoned, statuetted; the papers, the 
shop-windows, the dead-walls, were all full of Sara. Above all, 
her dry goods were brought prominently before a delighted and 
dress-worshipping world. She was thus shown beyond all perad- 
venture to be an artist of surpassing — Worth. 

THE DRY COODS DRAMA. 

It was currently announced, and for that matter currently 
believed, that Sara had brought with her 2,700 dresses for the 
stage — about 300 for each of her nine piays — and 1,000 for per- 
sonal wear, the whole cost of such a varied wardrobe exceed- 
ing 1,750,000 francs. 

Among these dresses were one hundred toilets for "Adrienne 
Lecouvreur, with ivory satin trains and fronts of skirts of China 
blue drapery, garlands of roses, and Alencon lace, on pointed 
bodices. Another hundred or so of dresses of Lyons brocade 
silk, with embroidered cascades of flowers on the skirt, and 
bodices trimmed with 3,000 yards of Bruges lace. A hundred 
and fifty ball dresses, for " Camille," of white satin, with huge 
embroidered camelias on a ground of pearls, with court trains, 
ond new patent self-acting arrangements to hold up the dresses 
or let them down at will, on the shoulders and bust. One hun- 
dred "sensational toilets " for the " Sphynx," of black and jet 



" TOO THIN;" or SKELETON SARA. 

'sts, with tremendous embroidered black ravens enfolded in the 
low satin skirts ; and fifty deshabille toilets (to receive news- 
ier men in) composed wholly of Valenciennes lace and pearls, 
the last fifty dresses being said to be, and we should judge truth- 
ly, marvellously effective — on newspaper men. 
It was gravely estimated by the " arithmetic man" of one of 
the papers that Sara's costumes, if sewed together, would consti- 
:e a bridge of dry goods spanning (or rather skirting) she 
lantic, and uniting Paris and New York — a magnificent idea 
lich was rewarded by the appreciative management with a 
ason ticket. 
But the great "hit" of the management in the dry-goods-dra- 
matic-advertising line was " Sara's Prize-Puzzle," which was 
ally original in idea and effective in execution. 

SKELETON SARA'S CHAMPION $500 PRIZE PUZZLE. 

A parlor of the hotel was hired expressly for the purposes of 
is "puzzle." Into this parlor admission was to be had only by 
::ket, each ticket beieg obtainable for no less than a ten dollar 
11. In one corner of this parlor stood a dressmaker's show- 
.se, with six or seven of Sara's choicest dresses suspended or 
displayed therein ; the show-case with its dresses being placed 
shind a curtain — which alternately concealed it and revealed it 
To all appearance the dresses in this show-case, when disclosed 
y the curtain, were merely dresses — dresses empty and unoc- 
ipied — dresses without a wearer. But this " appearance " 
was deceitful, as the holders of tickets were informed at once by 
the agent of the show, who was standing by the show-case, cry- 
1 ig out, " Here you are, ladies and gentlemen ; here you are ; 
le great Skeleton Sara's Prize Puzzle. I am commissioned to 
1 ffer $500 reward to the gentleman or lady who shall discover 
'hich of those dresses Sara is in. For she is in one of those very 
resses at this very moment. Here you are, ladies and gentle- 
ten ; here you are." Etcetera-dacapo. 

One minute by the watch was allowed to each set of ticket- 
olders to ascertaig the particular dress in which Sara was en- 
losed. But as Sara availed herself of the privilege oft standing 
'deways in her " particular dress," and thereby became, to all 



" TOO THIN;" or SKELETON SARA. 

them rich, and most of them married men. Sara stood before 
her assembled adorers, in one of the fifty toilets previously allu- 
ded to as designed to impress newspaper men, (and noodles) and 
after a spirited competition for her charms, fell into the arms and 
purse of a hoary-headed old cripple with a million, who being 
paralytic, was obliged, as she tenderly murmured, looking at his 
elegantly-engraved bank-check, "I am zine — I am zine!" to em- 
brace her by proxy. 

THE NIGHT comes. 



At last the night came— the long-expected, long-talked of, 
long paid-for-in-advance night — which was to witness the debut, 
of Sara in America. 

Every ticket-holder for the opening night was conscious of 
his own importance, and seemed to regard himself for the nonce 
as a public character ; swallow tails and white chokers were in 
demand; so were librettos and French dictionaries; so were 18- 
button gloves, lorgnettes, hacks and librettos. So, above all, 
were ten dollar bills — for although Sara did not believe in matri- 
mony everything connected with her had been reduced to a 
matter-o'money. 

But not only the rich but the impecunious had caught the in- 
fection. A Dutch grocer, for example, who had scraped enough 
money to buy a seat in the family circle, had also prepared a huge 
basket, filled with provisions, his design being to remain in the 
theatre during the whole of Sara's engagement — hiding during 
the day behind the scenes as best he could, emerging only at 
night from his concealment, and meanwhile living on his lunch- 
basket. A young Irish lad conceived the idea of mounting the 
roof of the theatre, entering through the scuttle, then sliding 
down the chandeliers ; while a bright American boy had invent- 
ed a balloon, which conveniently attached to the ground by a 
rope, would permit its occupant to gaze upon Sara through a 
window. While rich and poor humanity were thus alike pre- 
paring and palpitating to behold her, Sara, the objective point of 
all eyes and pocket-books, drove to the theatre, and the moment 
she entered her dressing-room sent for her American agent and 



• 



" TOO THIN/' or SKELETON SARA. 

him after her American manager. And the moment the 

personage appeared she asked him for some money. She 

no bones about it — (though Heaven knows she had bones 

r\i to spare)— but demanded an advance of 25,000 francs 

e she commenced to dress for her part. The manager was 

urprised — (nothing that Sara could do could -possibly sur- 

him by this time) — but he was justly annoyed and vexed. 

5ara heeded not, but only said — " You no advance — me no 

—and sat still, and sucked her bones — we mean her fingers. 

if course, the manager yielded. The money was sent to her 

Id pieces, in a bag, borne on the shoulders of the little, natty, 

blonde treasurer himself. For a while Sara was content — 

dressed. Then, having rouged, and powdered, and painted 

padded; having settled her wig, and stuffed her pillow- 

5, and located her bustle, and arranged her artificial calves, 

ng completely adjusted all the complicated machinery of 

toilet, and rendered herself indeed a work of " art," finding 

she had still ten minutes to spare, she improved the time by 

ling her poodle on four legs after her poodle on two, and then 

ling the two-legged poodle after her agent, and then sending 

agent after her manager, and then again asking her manager 

mlore money — for another 25,000 francs — before she would go 

he stage. 

Tjhe poor manager, who if this sort of thing lasted much 
jer, would really be a poor man, expostulated in vain, threat- 
d in vain, psayed in vain. He fell upon his knees and said 
prayers backwards. He reminded Sara that he had a family 
ioboken, and besought her to leave him enough money to pay 
fare across the ferry. But Sara was inexorable, and the man- 
r surrendered. Again the little, natty, oily blonde Treasurer 
eared with his bag of " gold," bright shining " gold," and 
nbly laid it at stern Sara's feet. 

And while all this was transpiring in the theatre there raged 
wildest excitement in the streets. The thoroughfares were 
»ked, the cars and busses were blockaded, the house-windows 
e lined, the sidewalks were obstructed ; timid people thought 
re was a fight, and country-people thought there was a fire ; 
small boys climbed the trees, and the police clubbed the 



" TOO THIN/' or SKELETON SARA. 

small boys. And when the rush commenced for the tl 
doors there ensued a scene without a parallel. Gentlemen i 
fought, bled, caused other gentlemen's noses to bleed, 
ladies tore each other's dresses, broke each other's fans, scr£ .1 
each other's faces, and took away each other's characters. 

Pour quoi ? For what ? That is precisely the question \ 
was asked of a gentleman who with banged eyes, swelled 
cut cheek, lost teeth, crumpled collar, torn coat, and besm 
boots, had just passed through the u fiery ordeal." 

And his answer was suggestive. 

" I have given a week's work to my doctor and my tai 
see"— What ? 

" A great actress ?" Not necessarily. 

" A good woman ?" " Not by a large majority." 

"What, then?" 

Simply — " The best advertised woman in the world i 



